


Peremptory

by CultOfAdoration



Series: If He Had A Symbol, It Would Be Lead [2]
Category: Ghost (Swedish Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Crying, Degradation, Fear, Gross, Humiliation, Kissing, M/M, Overstimulation, Papa ''Big Dick Energy'' Emeritus II, Spit Kink, can be read as a Standalone fic, mean and gross old man is my favorite old man, semi-public, sorry dad pt 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-25 08:03:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15636594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CultOfAdoration/pseuds/CultOfAdoration
Summary: I would like to apologize to everyone in advance for this.III and Copia both wear their suits underneath their robes for real life concerts so let’s just assume II does the same for rituals, okay?





	Peremptory

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to apologize to everyone in advance for this. 
> 
> III and Copia both wear their suits underneath their robes for real life concerts so let’s just assume II does the same for rituals, okay?

It was only the third ritual he’d ever attended but he was sure the novelty would never wear off. He was barely able to contain his excitement when Papa Emeritus II moved to stand behind the pulpit, voice booming as he read scriptures from the heavy book before him. Sisters of Sin came and went from the stage, carrying bundles of smoldering plants and ornate glass containers of strange fluids as necessary. Five ghouls, each representing an element, were behind him, hardly visible in the low light. He wouldn’t even have noticed them if not for the candlelight shining off of their eyes and horns. They accompanied Papa’s speech occasionally with foreign words of their own, which the ghoul barely understood, along with mimicking Papa’s hand motions with the fluidity that can only come from many years of practice. He did his best to focus and follow along with the prayers in his meager Latin vocabulary, wincing a bit each time his voice fell out of line with the others.  
  
The ghoul typically tried to stick to the back of the crowd so as not to draw attention to himself, especially after his last few encounters with Papa, but there was something about the commanding tone of that voice that always got the better of him. The ritual is nearing its end when the ghoul realizes that he wasn’t even trying to follow along anymore, too distracted by the intensity in Papa’s face and his dramatic movements. The ghoul shifts from foot to foot, unable to get comfortable where he’s standing. He isn’t sure if it’s the dense crowd, the air thick with heat and incense, or his own thoughts making him so restless. If the few sideways glances thrown in his general direction were anything to go by, Papa had definitely noticed. He always seemed to know when someone wasn’t doing what they were supposed to. On one occasion that Papa actually held his gaze, the ghoul tugged open the button at his collar under the guise of seeking some relief from the heat to run his clawed fingers along the fading purple bite mark on his throat. Papa doesn’t miss a beat in his sermon, only drums his fingers once on the surface of the pulpit when the ghoul presses his fingers against the spot on his neck where Papa knows his teeth broke skin.  
  
The ghoul’s adrenaline didn’t even have a chance to wear off by the time Papa finally left the stage, allowing a deacon to deliver any closing statements to the lingering crowd. The five ghouls remained on stage, quietly helping the Sisters straighten up while the deacon droned on unheard.  
  
The moment that Papa saw the opportunity, he grabbed the ghoul tightly by his arm and dragged him away from the chapel. It’s far from the first time, but the ghoul still can’t help the anticipation. He feels himself already grinning, face hot. He’s gonna be in so much trouble. Forgetting the words wasn’t intentional. Everyone knew that it took a while before the newer followers got the hang of it, and nobody particularly cared when it came to suggestive behavior during a ritual — in fact, it was often encouraged, depending on what the ritual was for — but he really had no excuse for trying to distract Papa from his work. They walk for a while down the long and empty corridor, the ghoul stumbling along trying to keep up with Papa until they come to a room with the door ajar and the ghoul is unceremoniously shoved inside.  
  
In the low light, he sees Papa removing his vestments, neatly folding the robes and setting them gently on a table alongside his mitre and the papal stole emblazoned with the Grucifix. Papa loosens the collar of his shirt and allows himself to relax for a moment before shoving the ghoul face first into the wall just a few feet from the doorway.  
  
He didn't even bother telling the ghoul what had gotten him this heated and why. He just pulls the ghoul’s pants down to his thighs and grabs him by his hips, pulling him back against his erection. The ghoul brings his hands up to the wall on either side of his head in an attempt to support himself. The ghoul arches his back a bit, rubbing up against him. “Are you always this hard after rituals?” He laughs, already breathless.  
  
“Keep quiet,” Papa snaps at him, rutting hard. Another soft noise escapes the ghoul’s mouth as he’s pushed harder into the wall by a strong hand on the back of his neck, a sore spot already forming on his cheek.  
  
“Stay.”  
  
He hisses when Papa digs his fingers into the faded bruises already marring one side of his hip bones before releasing him. The ghoul squirms in anticipation after a few long moments, wondering if he should turn around anyway. Maybe he was just testing him. Did he leave? Papa wouldn’t decide to stop this early on, right?  
  
The ghoul’s mounting confusion dissipates once he hears the sound of Papa going through his pockets and the click of a lid being popped open.  
  
“Oh, of course. Why wouldn’t you have—”, the ghoul mumbles, voice dripping with fake disbelief. The remark is cut short by a groan when two of Papa’s fingers enter him, barely giving him any time to adjust as he’s roughly stretched open. Through gritted teeth, the ghoul says “You could’ve taken the gloves off first,” though he has to admit that the strange, slightly unpleasant texture makes the heat spike in the pit of his stomach. He’s already pushing back against his hand, trying to quicken the pace when Papa adds a third before he’s ready for it. “Don’t get smart with me, ghoul,” Papa says in a hushed tone with a particularly rough thrust of his fingers, making the ghoul hiss.  
  
Light from the hallway partially illuminates the room, and the ghoul realizes that in their hurry, they’d forgotten to completely shut the door. He’s vaguely aware of the commotion of the congregation leaving the chapel just a short distance away from where they’re hidden and has to bite his tongue to keep silent in a moment of panic. He tries to look back at Papa, ready to warn him, but he’s only met with Papa’s emotionless stare. The ghoul tries to at least turn his head away from the direction of the door when he notices silhouettes of other ghouls walking back and forth through the hallway, but can’t thanks to the hand holding him in place. He shivers despite the building heat in the cramped room and under his skin and he finds himself pushing back against Papa’s fingers once more.  
  
The ghoul begins to undo his shirt to escape the heat but fumbles and gives up after the fourth button when Papa’s other hand snakes around to his front. He strokes the ghoul’s cock, the gentleness there betraying how roughly he was fucking him on his fingers. The angle is awkward, allowing for only brief brushes against the ghoul’s prostate. Papa figured out early on that it was the feeling of being stretched and filled that made him really fall apart. The ghoul knows that he can trust Papa to get him to where he needs to be and knows better than to complain. The last time he did, Papa held him down by his wrists for what felt like hours, fucking him with his fingers until the ghoul’s voice was ruined and his body ached. He was sore for days, had to play sick to be allowed to stay in bed until he could at least sit up without his abs hurting.  
  
His cock twitches at the memory and he makes a mental note to get on Papa’s nerves more often. His thoughts are interrupted when Papa makes an inquisitive noise behind him.  
  
“Do you think I could fit a fourth inside of you?” He asks, almost casually. The ghoul moans low in his throat and rocks his hips faster against Papa’s hands, legs beginning to tremble. The stretch of three fingers was already a little too much, too quickly. Before he can say anything, the fingers are gone and he hears a condom packet being torn open and tossed to the ground, the popping of the lid of the lubricant bottle following shortly after. He exhales through his teeth as he slicks his cock and gets himself fully hard before making the slow and arduous slide in. Papa whispers something near his ear and the ghoul can barely hear him over his own panting but he thinks he can make out the words “tight” and “wet” and it just makes his breathing that much heavier. He doesn’t bottom out on the first few thrusts, despite the ghoul already pushing his hips back insistently.  
  
The ghoul squirms against him, still feeling the uncomfortable stretch, but Papa maintains the same steady, unrelenting pace. He’s still thrusting shallowly into him, despite the fact that the ghoul was still trying to roll his hips back to take more of him inside. Before long, those needy little noises begin to bubble up from the ghoul’s throat. Papa sighs through his nose, and the ghoul can tell from that sound alone that he’s rolling his eyes at him.  
  
Papa takes his hands off of the ghoul’s hips, hauling him up by the throat until he’s standing straight, body now pinned between him and the wall. He doesn’t keep his hand on the ghoul’s throat for long, instead dropping it down to his hip to hold him mostly in place. He uses his other hand, the one still slick with lube, to stroke the ghoul’s cock as he grinds into him. Papa sighs heavily again as he increases the speed of his hand on the ghoul’s dick, as if it were a chore he’s already gotten bored of. He focuses more on the head of the ghoul’s cock, tightening his fingers at the very tip, occasionally tracing along the soft scales at the underside. He doesn’t bother to change up his pace, instead opting to keep things somewhat slow as he worked his hand over the ghoul’s cock.  
  
“Papa,” the ghoul whines, reaching back to awkwardly grab at Papa’s hip. “You can go harder, you know I can take it. Or is it good like this? Do you like it this way?” He knows he’s babbling and sounds kind of stupid, but he can’t really stop himself. “Come on, please, please—”  
  
He’s cut off when Papa scoffs and tightens his grip on him. “Oh, stop fucking whining. Do you want the whole building to hear you?” He growls as he pushes all the way in, rolling his hips as if he were trying to get even deeper inside of the ghoul. Somewhere in the back of the ghoul’s mind, he realizes that it should hurt, or feel somewhat uncomfortable at least, but he’s too focused on the fact that he can practically feel Papa’s pulse from the inside to really care; he could easily come from this alone.  
  
The ghoul yelps once Papa starts to move again, licking his lips as his breathing grows heavier. His voice takes on a harsh, mocking tone as he thrusts hard and fast into the ghoul. “Is it good like this? Do you like it this way?” The ghoul makes a broken, pathetic noise and Papa feels a rush of heat run through him. He huffs with what could be a laugh, the ghoul isn’t really sure at this point. He shuts his eyes and allows his head to fall back and rest on Papa’s shoulder.  
  
“—feel you in my stomach,” the ghoul mumbles so softly that Papa misses the entire first half but he shudders and provides a tight-lipped moan once he realizes what the ghoul means. So much for fitting all the way inside. The ghoul’s hands are on whatever part of him that they can reach. Papa figures that the ghoul’s been good enough not to correct his behavior. A clawed hand rubs up the side of his thigh, over his ass and grips at his hip, trying to pull him into a faster pace. Papa doesn’t really mind until he feels another hand at the back of his neck, the ghoul now looking up at him (the best he can, considering the angle) and trying to bring their faces together for a kiss. If he were any other man, he would find it endearing. Maybe even cute. Unfortunately for the ghoul, Papa Emeritus II isn’t any other man. He grabs the ghoul by the jaw, taking note of the quick flash of shock in his eyes.  
  
He squeezes hard at the pressure points of the ghoul’s jaw and licks over the ghoul’s mouth as his lips part. He whines and realizes dimly that Papa’s teasing him after he pulls back each time the ghoul tries to move in closer. He laughs when the ghoul pulls back a bit, averting his gaze, but Papa pulls him closer, still holding him by the jaw.  
  
“Did you think I was going to kiss you? Do you think you deserve that? Did you earn it?”  
  
Papa jostles the ghoul around a little with rough, jerking motions of his hand as he speaks. A jolt of anger rushes through the ghoul, makes him want to fight his way out of Papa’s crushing grasp and pull him down with him to do whatever he’d like. Makes him want to scream — _you have your fucking dick in my ass, the least you could do is kiss me, you prick_ — but all he can really do from this position is bare his teeth at the taller man and growl. The sound is low and quavering, earning nothing more than a derisive snort and another lick, this time across his teeth.

  
“You’re not doing a very good job of convincing me that you deserve anything, ghoul,” Papa mutters, keeping so close that the ghoul can feel his lips brushing against his own. The ghoul moans, moving forward once more to try catching Papa in a kiss. Seemingly taking pity on the ghoul, Papa brushes his hand up from his jaw to rub his thumb over the ghoul’s lower lip, pulling his mouth open slightly. “You haven’t been good enough for me yet, have you?” 

The ghoul is left confused for a split second before Papa sinks his teeth into the ghoul’s lip, his other hand speeding up again on his cock. The lube and precum make the slide of his gloves easier but his fingers are almost unbearably tight. The intensity of it leaves the ghoul unsure if he wants to buck into the hand working him over or push him away. Papa pulls back from the ghoul, admires the way that the ghoul’s forked tongue comes out to swipe away the small bead of blood that gathers at the swell of his lip. A keening moan tears its way from his throat before he can comment on the slight tremble of Papa’s hands, the heat building in his groin finally becoming unbearable. The ghoul can barely maintain his composure as he thrusts up into Papa’s hand, instead panting, open-mouthed, as he reaches a plateau. The only things keeping him somewhat grounded are Papa’s steady, even breathing and the feeling of the fabric on his palm as he rubs his hand over Papa’s thigh. He notices that Papa has slowed back down to a frustratingly slow grind, opting instead to give his full attention to the ghoul. In his sex-addled brain, he thinks that he can’t help but love him for that and another whine makes its way out of him. 

“ _Oh, fuck_ ,” the ghoul gasps, ragged and breathless. “Fuck, Papa, you’re gonna make me cum, are you,” he pauses to catch his breath, wets his lips with his tongue and swallows. “Are you gonna let me? Fuck.”

Papa hisses and licks at his mouth, running his tongue over the ghoul’s lips, his teeth, before dipping his tongue into the ghoul’s mouth. The ghoul groans when Papa bites down on his lip again, lapping at the spot where he broke the skin. His voice catches at the end of every gasp, high and desperate until he finally jolts and goes still. Cum spills mostly over Papa’s hand as the ghoul lets out what sounds like a broken sob, shuddering when Papa doesn’t stop his rough movements immediately after. Somewhere in the back of the ghoul’s mind, he realizes that his lip will probably be bruised in the morning, if it wasn’t already. At least the ones on his neck and hips were easily hidden by his clothes. He can’t exactly bring himself to care through the post-orgasm haze. Right now all he can focus on is how Papa is licking and sucking gently at his lip, as if in apology for the sharp, stinging pain and awkward conversations the ghoul is about to have later. It’s almost sweet, really.

Almost.

The ghoul doesn’t even realize that Papa’s pulling out before he’s being turned around to face him and shoved back against the wall. Exhaustion is already settling in his brain as Papa takes the ghoul’s pants all the way down and off one leg, getting more and more frustrated at his noncompliance by the second.

“Wait, what are you— oh shit!”

He’s too preoccupied with how fucking _pissed_ Papa looks to really care that he’s being picked up and held against the wall. All he can do at this point is just kind of go with it, so he wraps his legs around Papa’s waist and drapes his arms around his shoulders so he doesn’t slip and fall. The ghoul gasps when he’s reentered, the new angle too intense, too soon after orgasm. Papa gives him little to no time to adjust, picking up the same harsh pace from earlier. Overstimulation already leaves him shaking, his eyes welling up with tears and entire body twitching each time Papa’s cock hits just right inside of him.

  
Even half undressed with smudged face paint, Papa was absolutely terrifying. He isn’t a particularly large man, most of the other ghouls are actually taller than he is, but something about his presence made you feel weak and small. Insignificant. And the ghoul supposes they really are all insignificant compared to the Unholy Father himself, but _fuck_. He can’t stop himself from staring blearily through tears into Papa’s mismatched eyes, practically sobbing and he tightens his legs around him, trying to take him deeper. The ghoul is shaken from his thoughts at the sound of Papa’s voice.

  
“What do you think they’d say?”

They? The ghoul makes a tiny confused noise in the back of his throat and Papa narrows his eyes at him, contemptuous.

“Putting yourself on display in a room filled with people. What if somebody noticed? Is that what you wanted?”

The ghoul tries to answer but all that comes out is a moan. He licks his lips, swallows, and tries to answer again but he can’t get his words straight. Everything comes out in jumbled half sentences. He’s not even sure if Papa’s really listening to him.

“You were just— I wanted to see, I’m—”

“So eager to be fucked and ruined and _used_?” Papa finishes his sentence before he can get too far. “You’re making so much noise that I’m starting to think you _want_ someone to find you like this.”

With a chill, the ghoul remembers exactly where they are. Papa turns the ghoul’s head toward the door, a mere five feet from where they are, light from the hallway lanterns spilling in from the gap. Shit, anybody could hear him and walk in, see him getting absolutely wrecked against the wall. It’d be so humiliating, so degrading, so—

“Pathetic,” Papa seems to finish his thought for him, but when the ghoul snaps his gaze over to him, he isn’t even looking at him anymore. Instead he runs the flat of his palm over the ghoul’s cock, making him jump at the sensation. How is he getting hard again? He wants to scream when Papa keeps running his palm over the sensitive skin and ends up biting down on his lips to stop any noise from escaping. Thankfully, Papa moves his hand away and trails it further down to rub his thumb along where the ghoul is stretched tight over his cock, humming as he does so.

“You really don't think you could take more?” He asks quietly, almost to himself. He doesn’t wait for a reply before continuing.

“You are getting so good at this, aren’t you? A few months ago, you couldn’t even complete a simple task without fucking it up,” he puts a little more pressure against the ghoul, almost threatening to penetrate him with the digit as well, making him squirm at the strange feeling. “And now look at you. You’re taking my cock like you were made for it. Maybe I should show you off a little. Might even share. You’ve met my brother, haven’t you? The younger one? Maybe he would be up for—”

The ghoul whimpers at the suggestion, a quick and pitiful succession of “no, no, no, no” that causes Papa to turn his gaze back up to the ghoul’s face. His retort dies in his throat when the ghoul mumbles, “only you, just you, nobody else, only for you.” 

Papa exhales slowly and heavily through his teeth, growling as he drives deeper and harder into the ghoul.

  
“Keep it up and I’ll end up fucking you until you won’t even be able to move. Leave you here for the maintenance ghouls to find in the morning.”

Papa is becoming more and more aware of the almost manic cruelty in his voice, but he’s more concerned with how hard the ghoul’s gotten in such a short period of time. They’re both practically shivering with excitement as Papa runs his hand up to the ghoul’s throat. The ghoul gasps and flinches away from the contact, so all Papa does is run his fingers surprisingly gently over the faded marks he’d left there in the past. The ghoul finds himself leaning into the touch, but freezes when Papa speaks again.

“What would your parents think if they knew you were here? Did you imagine you'd ever be doing something like this?” He punctuates his questions by digging his fingertips into the ghoul’s bruises. The ghoul hisses at the dull, throbbing pain, his face heating up even further when his cock twitches in interest.

“What about your friends? The human ones from your old life, I mean. What if they saw you now? Do you think they would be upset? Disturbed, maybe, to find that their friend has become some disgusting little pervert?”

Papa smirks to himself when the ghoul moves a hand off his shoulder to smudge away the tears gathering in his eyes. He can’t be suffering too badly if the stuttering roll of his hips is anything to go by, tightening around him at a few harsh thrusts. Papa’s scoff isn’t dismissive at all, and is in fact dangerously close to a laugh when the ghoul, in yet another attempt to steal a kiss, manages to lick at Papa’s upper lip. “Really? You want it that badly? Is that it?" The ghoul nods, with a litany of “yes” and “please” as Papa strokes the back of his knuckles over the ghoul’s cheek. Papa pretends to be deep in thought, as if he were seriously considering the idea.

“Hmm. No,” he says simply. He sounds almost cheerful when he grabs the ghoul by the jaw again and tells him that he doesn’t deserve it.

“I’ll be good for you, please, I need—” The ghoul is cut off when Papa puts firm, steady pressure on the hinges of the ghoul’s jaw, forcing it open.

He stares down at the ghoul impassively for a second as the saliva to collects in his mouth, before he allows it to drip off of his tongue. Most of it makes it into the ghoul’s mouth, with a small amount dripping over his lip.

“That’s the closest you get until you earn it,” he whispers, the lowness of his voice masking its slight tremor. It isn't the meanest or most disgusting thing he’s ever done in the name of getting off, but the initial look of shock and fear that it earns makes his cock twitch so hard that the ghoul feels it inside of him. Despite himself, Papa feels his own face heat up slightly under the paint when he sees that the ghoul actually _swallows_ and licks away the small spot where his aim was off. He briefly wonders if maybe that was a bit weird, but he snaps out of it when the ghoul puts both of his hands around the back of Papa’s neck, trying to pull him closer.

“Fu-u-uck, again, more, more of you, do it, do it, do it, please,” he sobs, desperately clinging to Papa now, rocking his hips more urgently than before. Papa sneers and rolls his eyes at the ghoul, but fucks into him faster, forcing him all the way down onto his cock. He finally starts feeling the tightness in the pit of his stomach building and sighs. He slides his hand away from the ghoul’s jaw a final time and rests it at the junction  of his neck and shoulder.

“I can’t even punish you, you’re so filthy that you just end up liking whatever I do to you,” he clicks his tongue in annoyance. “It would be fun if it weren't _every single time_. It reflects badly on me that you get such special privileges, you know. Open.”

The ghoul listens, for once, and opens his mouth with his tongue lolled out slightly. Papa lets the saliva drip off of his tongue and into the ghoul’s mouth, his voice catching on his heaving breaths. Even the second time, he's a bit shocked when the ghoul swallows it. Papa strokes up the ghouls cock with the back of his fingers, only making direct eye contact when the ghoul flinches away from his touch. He very loosely and gently wraps his fingers around it and strokes him a few more times. When the ghoul cries out again, Papa tilts his head, as if he were confused.

“Too much?” he asks, keeping his hand still. The ghoul nods and attempts to catch his breath. “Oh, but you’re being so good,”  he says, voice filled with mock concern. “You’re so sensitive. Didn't you just say you wanted more?” The ghoul almost chokes when Papa presses his thumb down on the head of his cock, rubbing hard at the slit. After a few more passes of his thumb, he takes his hand off of the ghoul once he sees fresh tears spring up in his eyes. Papa groans low in his throat when he hears the ghoul murmur about being good before opening his mouth again without prompting. He feels a tiny pang of pride in his chest at the ghoul learning so quickly and figures he might as well give him _something_. Papa leans in, much closer than the ghoul was used to, and catches his tongue with his own, licking into the ghoul’s mouth. He closes the kiss as he starts stroking the ghoul’s cock again, muffling any sounds the ghoul might make. The inside of the ghoul’s mouth is almost unbearably hot, the kiss deepening when the ghoul sucks Papa’s tongue into his mouth. The ghoul pulls away abruptly, nicking Papa’s tongue on his pointed teeth in the process. He hisses at the sharp sting and realizes belatedly that the ghoul is babbling again.

“Papa, I’m gonna cum again, I want to— fuck, please, please make me cum,” the ghoul groans breathlessly, voice rising in pitch the more Papa’s hand moves over him. He’s still twitching, nerves screaming from overstimulation, but he’s so close that he can’t make himself care. His orgasm builds and builds until the ghoul’s back arches off the wall, Papa’s mouth closing over his own again to muffle any too-loud sounds. Papa can’t stop himself from moaning into the kiss when the ghoul’s forked tongue runs over either side of his own. His mouth feels pleasantly cool in comparison to the ghoul's, almost strangely so. The ghoul finds himself wanting to go deeper, to lick at the walls of his mouth and the back of his teeth. Papa feels the ghoul suck the blood and saliva from his tongue before swallowing and he pulls back just enough to speak.

“Oh, _fuck_ , you’re _disgusting,_ ” he says breathlessly, but any animosity is lost when he reconnects their mouths and moans, loud, as he feels his own orgasm nearing its peak. Papa growls and sucks hard at the ghoul’s tongue, saliva collecting in the corners of their mouths and smearing over their skin. The kiss quickly devolves into just lapping and nipping at each other, open mouthed, Papa thrusting into the ghoul a final few times before his orgasm nearly knocks the wind out of him.

They keep kissing as they catch their breath, even after Papa pulls out and sets the ghoul back down from his place against the wall. The ghoul leans heavily against the wall to breathe for a moment as Papa tosses the condom into a wastebasket and begins cleaning himself up with a square of fabric from his trousers pocket. The ghoul winces in embarrassment as Papa wipes sticky cum off of his black gloves, folding the fabric over to a clean patch before wiping at a line of spit trailing from the corner of his mouth. It’s not as awkward as it probably should be when Papa cards his now clean fingers through the ghoul’s hair to tug him forward and dab the spit and cum from his skin. As the ghoul redresses himself, he watches Papa attempt to fold the fabric over so that he could hold it without dirtying his hands again. He’s shocked motionless when the ghoul tugs him forward by the shirt to lean his forehead against his shoulder, vaguely aware that his horns are probably poking him in the neck. There’s nothing to it. He just needs to stand there and gather himself before he can go back outside where people can see. Papa lets him, but usually only for a moment.

The ghoul laughs.

“Am I really that filthy?”

“Probably.”

The ghoul hums in acknowledgement and closes his eyes. He inhales deeply, the cloying scent of smoke still clings to Papa’s skin and clothing even under the smell of sweat.  

“Wish you’d cum inside me,” the ghoul mutters sleepily from the crook of Papa’s neck, fist still twisted up in his shirt. He feels his face heat up again, the smooth grey of his skin becoming blotchy and dark, and nuzzles in closer to Papa's neck to hide it. As far as he knew, there was nothing that could be transmitted between a ghoul and a human (or whatever the Emeritus family actually was), so why not, right? Papa impatiently grabs him by the wrist and untangles his fingers, one at a time, before attempting to smooth down the wrinkled fabric.

“Noted.”

Papa’s tone is clipped and sharp, the way it typically gets when he's over the whole situation and wants to be left alone. The ghoul takes the hint and continues straightening himself up in silence. No overly affectionate ghouls allowed. There's been more than enough personal boundary crossing for one night.   


Before the ghoul is able to turn and leave, he’s caught around the throat by Papa’s arm, who pulls him in close enough that he can feel the rumble of Papa’s voice against his back. “Try not to cry too much over becoming a disgusting little pervert. Maybe it wouldn’t have worked out so well as a human, but…” Papa gesticulates with his other hand as he searches for the correct words. “It’s a pretty good deal for a ghoul, I’d say.”

He doesn’t kiss him, just he keeps his arm around the small ghoul and if he leans his face into the ghoul’s hair for a few moments too long, neither of them say anything.

The moment is finally killed when Papa shoves the ghoul out the door, tossing the filthy cloth after him with strict orders to “burn it out in the courtyard, or something”.

**Author's Note:**

> Public service announcement: please remove your gloves before jacking anyone off. Unless they have protective scales on their penis. In which case, go wild. 
> 
> As always, I appreciate any and all feedback. <3


End file.
